


I know places

by josephjonxs



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 22:19:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15156836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josephjonxs/pseuds/josephjonxs
Summary: Request:  May we have sneaky canon-era Sprace sneaking out of their lodging houses and meeting in the middle somewhere for some talking, reassuring, and cuddles? (tumblr request by @ughwaitwhat)





	I know places

**Author's Note:**

> I did my proofread at almost 2am so sorry if there are small mistakes, I just really wanted to get this up!

The common room of the Lodging house was quiet. Every boy there, except for Race, was already asleep, everyone who was not asleep was working down stairs on protest signs for their strike. The strike had been going on for just over a week. Most kids were healed up after their terrible loss at their first official day of striking. No one except for Davey, Les and Katherine had seen Jack since that day. Jack, the boy who normally was able to lead the mess of kids who formed the Newsies of Lower Manhattan. But without Jack everyone had looked to Race, since Davey and Les went back home at the end of the day but Race stayed in the lodging house. Race, who had no idea how to lead these kids, how to make them have faith in this strike. He was not a leader like Jack. He was great at being a second, but he was no leader.  
The blonde boy was sitting on his bunkbed, still completely dressed. His unlit cigar balanced between his lips as he played with his cap in his hands. It’s been only a few minutes since Elmer, with who he shared a bunk, had fallen asleep and he did not wish to wake the boy. So, Race waited, until he was sure the boy would not wake from the movement on the bed. He softly dropped himself to the floor, checking quickly to make sure he did not wake Mike and Ike, the twins on the bed beneath his bunk. Every floorboard seemed to creak as he made his way to the window, which was wide open. The boy climbed out of the window, dropping himself on the fire escape.   
The warm July-air felt sticky against his skin, it barely cooled down during the night. Race quickly went down the metal stairs, trying to be as quiet as possible. When he reached the street, he put his cap on his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. As he walked down the quiet streets he made sure to keep an eye on anyone walking around. Even though it was far past working hours there were still bulls walking around, taking any excuse or reason to arrest a newsie just wandering around. So, the boy kept his head down and his eyes focussed.   
When he neared the Brooklyn Bridge it was easy to spot the boy who waited for him. The dark-haired boy leaned against an unlit lamppost. His arms were crossed, exposing his biceps. Neither said anything when Race neared. The Brooklyn leader simply nodded into a direction and Race followed. They went up a fire escape a few streets away, climbing onto the roof of the small apartment building.   
“Spot,” Race said softly. The other boy’s lips crashed onto his, his arms wrapping around Race’s waist. After all this time Race still felt like the world was spinning when Spot kissed him. Like time stopped and it was just the two of them. His skin burned at the places where Spot touched him, a nice way of burning, the best way of burning. It felt like Race could just explode of happiness and love, right here. So, the boy could not contain a soft whiny moan when Spot’s lips left his.  
“Come sit down,” Spot suggested, his Brooklyn accent heavy. Race watched the boy as they sat down against the small wall surrounding the roof. His dark hair which was mostly hidden beneath his cap. His skin was tanned from working in the sun all day and those dark eyes, which made Race’s heart weak. He looked the complete opposite from Race, who was blonde with bright blue eyes. No matter how many hours Race worked in the sun, he barely tanned, despite being Italian. Where Spot was ninety percent muscle, you could not convince Racer otherwise, Race was taller but his arms could fit twice in Spot’s   
“Ya looks terrible, Racer,” Spot stated when they sat.   
“What? Me bruises is finally gone. I look great,” he protested, removing his cap from his head to run his hand through his blonde curls.   
“Ya look tired, exhausted.”   
Race only shrugged, laying his head down on Spot’s shoulder. “Ya coming tomorrow?” he asked. Tomorrow was the day of the rally. To be honest, Race had no idea to expect. Davey had claimed Jack was for sure coming. Jack was a man of his words, Race knew that, but he also knew Jack was not the person to just leave his newsies and he still did that. The rally could go great, if Jack and Brooklyn showed up and they all would agree. Or it could go terrible and everyone would blame Manhattan and if Jack did not show up everyone would look to Race for the blame.   
“‘Course we is coming. I promised to join afta Manhattan showed us, yous wouldn’t back down. Ya didn’t. Ya can count on Brooklyn,” Spot softly squeezed Race’s arm as he laid it around his shoulder.   
“Thank ya,” Race whispered. The other boy responded by placing a soft kiss on his curls.   
“It’s goin’ be okay, Racer, I promise,”   
“Jack is still gone. Davey promises he is goin’ be there tomorrow. But what if he ain’t? Every newsie is lookin’ at me like I’s know what to do. I’s don’t,” The blonde boy blurted, lifting his head from Spot’s shoulder to look at the boy, the boy who he loved.   
“Racer,” Spot sighed softly. “No one is expetin’ yous to lead them. Yous is doin’ everything ya can.”  
Race crawled on Spot’s lap, wrapping his legs around the boy’s waist, facing him.   
“Ya can always come live in Brooklyn,” Spot suggested, a small grin on his lips.  
“And stop sneakin’ ‘round? Yous knows I love sneakin’ around,” The usual grin was back on Race’s lips, as he wrapped his arms around Spot’s neck.  
“Don’t worry too much ‘bout tomorrow, yeah? Yous got ya talkin’ mouth with ya. He can do the work,” Spot reassured him, brushing a curl away from the other boy’s face. Race nodded, his lips shortly meeting Spot’s. Even those short seconds made him feel like he was in heaven.   
“How was yous day?” Spot asked, his hands resting on the back of Race’s waist, his fingers tracing patterns on the fabric of the boy’s shirt.   
“Okay, we is working on signs for tomorrow. Finch suggested it. We send twenty kids out to sell, so we can buy food. I can’t let’em starve.”   
“See, a true leader,” Spot smiled.   
“Screw ya.”


End file.
